


I Hate You (Except I Really Don't)

by theywere-neverhomeless (notyourdadsaugspecialist)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Sam, Spanking, Underage Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Underage Sam, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:30:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8338177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourdadsaugspecialist/pseuds/theywere-neverhomeless
Summary: Dean’s sitting in his room on his bed and he’s fucking smiling at Sam, gentle and Sam fucking hates him for the way his heart pounds in his chest at the affection there.“Take off your pants and bend over, Sammy,” Dean says in that same mild tone from earlier, and Sam’s heart stops for a sickening instant before thudding into double time.“You’re joking.”





	

“The rules were very clear, Sam,” Dean says firmly, and Sam can’t stand the tone of disappointment in his brother’s voice. It pisses him off just as much as it upsets him.

“You were gone for weeks, both of you were! What was I supposed to do?” Sam bites his lip, cursing himself for letting the desperation he’s feeling sink into his tone. 

“You’re very resourceful. You could have found a way to make it to school without hotwiring a car. Take the friggin’ bus like normal people do,” Dean says, crossing his arms, and Sam blinks back hot tears. He will  _ not _ cry in front of Dean, dammit. He  _ will not.  “ _ Dude, don’t give me a dirty look. It’s not my fault you got busted. Dad’s mad enough that I came back to bail you out. He was gonna leave you in juvie.”

Sam looks away,  _ pout _ written all over his face. It’s been almost a month since the last time he saw Dean, and he’s missed his big brother more than he cares to admit. Probably a bit more than necessary. He’s fifteen now, and he’s chalked up his decidedly unbrotherly attraction to his older brother as nothing more than raging teenage hormones. But the way his heart twists in his chest at Dean’s disappointment in him… Sam’s walking a fine line of denial, and he’d be perfectly happy to never find out what’s on the other side.

“Nobody asked you to come in and save me, Dean,” Sam snaps, sneering at his older brother, and he knows it’s a mistake the moment he says it but it’s too late to stop now, so he barges on full steam ahead. “I’m not a fucking child, I can handle my own damn self, you and Dad saw to that a long time ago, so you can go now. We both know you’d rather be with Dad.”

Maybe Sam’s itching for a fight. Maybe he wants Dean to get angry with him, to yell at him, because at least it means that he’s actually paying attention. Dean doesn’t do any of these things. He fucking  _ smiles _ . It’s sharp and glittery, like the edge of a knife, and it does funny things to Sam’s insides.

“You sure got a dirty mouth since I’ve been gone, Sammy,” Dean says mildly as he walks over to Sam’s bed from his place in the hallway. He turns and crooks his finger at Sam, who follows despite himself. Dean sits on the edge of the bed, beckoning Sam closer still, and Sam obeys with his arms folded across his chest in a symbol of defiance. 

Dean’s sitting in his room on his bed and he’s fucking smiling at Sam, gentle and Sam fucking hates him for the way his heart pounds in his chest at the affection there.

“Take off your pants and bend over, Sammy,” Dean says in that same mild tone from earlier, and Sam’s heart stops for a sickening instant before thudding into double time.

“You’re joking.”

The smile slips from Dean’s face to house a serious, firm expression, and he pats his knee in a way that leaves no room for doubt. This is an order. 

“I’m  _ fifteen _ , you ass,” Sam says incredulously, still unmoving. “You can’t spank me like I’m a fucking kid.” His face is flushing with embarrassment, and maybe something else, too. The last time Dean spanked him, he was nine, and he had stolen a candy bar from the convenience store.

“Act like a kid, get treated like one,” Dean retorts, patting his knee a little more sharply to show his impatience. “Now do as I say, or I won’t go easy on you. And you’ll be in for worse when Dad gets home.”

Cheeks burning, Sam bites down his scathing comeback and angrily pulls his belt out of his pants, eyes defiant on Dean’s face. The belt makes a satisfying clatter on the floor, and he watches Dean’s carefully masked expression as he unzips his pants and shoves them to the floor. He watches as Dean’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips, careful gaze tracking the movement, and Sam hates himself for the wash of arousal that spreads through him at the little gesture. He bites his lip as he steps forward, and yelps when Dean’s hand closes around his wrist and pulls him onto his lap.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dean murmurs, hand mapping the expanse of flesh that he intends to swat, and Sam isn’t prepared for the way his brother’s touch makes him feel. The last time Dean did this, Sam was nine, but he’s not nine anymore, and he bites on his lip to distract himself from the way his cock is filling out in his boxers. 

“Just do it,” Sam grits out, fisting a hand in the denim of Dean’s pants leg, and he spreads his legs just enough to feel more balanced, and then Dean’s spanking him, and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to think of anything else.

The first swat stings, like little fiery pinpricks on his ass and he can feel his eyes begin to fill with tears. But he doesn’t want to give Dean the satisfaction, so he bites down on his lip. Sam can’t help the little startled noise that bursts from his lips at the second swat, on the other cheek, but he just grips Dean’s pantleg tighter and ignores the single tear that’s escaped and tracked down his face.

The third one lands on the meat between Sam’s ass and his thigh, and it has this garbled keening noise tearing from Sam because it feels  _ good _ and it shouldn’t feel good, and now he’s getting hard, but he doesn’t have time to think about that because the next strike lands in the same place on his other leg, and this time Sam  _ moans _ .  He can hear Dean’s breath hitch, and Sam’s terrified. Any moment now, Dean’s going to dump him off his lap and call him a freak and storm out. But he doesn’t. 

“D’ya like that, little brother?” Dean says, voice rough and low and Sam thinks he’s probably never heard anything more erotic in his life. The fifth swat comes then, and Sam cries out a “ _ yes _ ” that would have him too embarrassed to speak if he weren’t so focused on the way Dean feels beneath him, above him, around him. They’re on Sam’s bed, but all he can smell is leather and aftershave, and when the next swat hits, he’s grinding into Dean’s leg, and he’s pretty sure he just heard Dean  _ groan _ . 

“ _ Dean _ ,” Sam shouts on the next impact, voice raw and needy, and he’s not sure how it happened but suddenly he’s upright with his thighs bracketing Dean’s, and they’re trading breaths, almost kissing. 

“Sammy,” Dean whispers against Sam’s cheek, and the way it sounds like a goddamn prayer has Sam moaning. “Let me kiss you, little brother. Wanna taste you-” 

Sam presses his hands to either side of Dean’s face and he’s slotting their mouths together, tongue lapping at his brother’s lower lip like he sees in the movies. Dean chuckles, and the sound has no right being as sinful as it is, but Sam shivers anyway, licking into his brother’s mouth as Dean parts his lips obligingly.

Dean’s hands are on his hips, grinding their crotches together, and Sam keens into Dean’s mouth at the feeling of his cock scraping against his brother’s denim-trapped erection.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, Sammy, you moan so pretty for me. God, I wanna touch you, can I? Sammy, can I touch you? I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,” Dean’s begging, and Sam just whimpers, nodding open-mouthed into the kiss as Dean cups the curve of Sam’s ass with calloused fingers. Sam rocks back into it, and Dean presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then another at his chin, and another and another down his jawline until he’s pulling Sam’s earlobe into his mouth. Sam lets out a needy moan, head thrown back as Dean maps every inch of his skin, big hands grabbing and caressing and touching, and when Dean’s hand dips under Sam’s boxers to grab hold of his erection, Sam feels the breath leave his lungs in a whoosh as the world tilts on its axis. Dean seems to sense Sam’s impending orgasm, because he clamps a firm grip around the base of Sam’s cock, and after a few painstaking moments, Sam gulps in another breath and pushes forward into Dean’s hand.

“I gotcha, little brother,” Dean murmurs against Sam’s neck, and the reminder that they’re brothers shouldn’t be so fucking hot but it  _ is _ , and he whimpers as Dean’s rough thumb presses against the slit of his cock.

“ _ Dean, _ ” Sam groans, and Dean begins to pump him slowly. Sam’s no stranger to masturbation, and he’s even let a girl give him a handjob under the bleachers during a football game once, but there’s really no comparison to the masterful way Dean works his little brother’s cock. His movements are slow, purposeful, and sure, and the knowledge that Dean must have done this before has jealousy burning in Sam’s gut but it feels too fucking good. Every stroke has Sam heading toward orgasm, and Dean’s drinking in every moan like he needs it to survive. He speeds up when Sam’s hips start to thrust forward in abortive searches for more, and Sam’s moaning takes on a more desperate pitch. Dean’s sucking on Sammy’s lower lip, worrying it between his teeth as he works him over, and when Sam meets his eyes, he’s greeted with black, dark and hungry, and he lets out a sharp whine.

“ _ Dean, _ ” he moans urgently, breath coming in sharp pants, and Dean groans beneath him.

“You gonna come for me, little bro? Yeah?” Dean pumps him faster. “Yeah, Sammy. Come for me, baby.”

Sam’s eyes snap wide open and he’s coming and coming and coming with a sharp cry, eyes locked onto Dean’s. Dean is helpless to look away as his brother falls apart in his lap, quaking and trembling and moaning as he comes all over Dean’s fist.

Their foreheads rest together as Sam catches his breath, though Dean seems almost as winded as he is, and when he comes back to earth, his face melts into a lazy grin that Dean can’t help but return.

When Sam shifts his hips, he feels that Dean is still hard beneath him, but Dean just lifts up and kisses him. 

“Do you want-” Sam starts, but Dean interrupts hastily.

“-don’t have to-” 

They both stop sheepishly, and Sam laughs. Dean says, “Shut up, Sammy,” but there’s no bite to it, and a moment later, he’s laughing as well. The laughter dies away, and Sam’s expression turns serious. Dean recognizes the desire darkening his brother’s eyes and it has his cock twitching in excitement.

“Dean, I wanna watch you. Can I?” The question is laced with so much tentative hope and doubt, and Dean kisses Sam in way of answer. 

“Get off me, and I’ll give you a show, Sammy-boy,” Dean says with a grin that has Sam rolling his eyes affectionately, but he obliges and helps Dean with his pants. 

When they’re through, they take a shower together, and spend the rest of the weekend touching each other as much as possible, which always devolves into handjobs. When Sam offers to suck Dean’s dick, he nearly comes on the spot.  
  
Neither of them are sure how their new dynamic is going to affect things, but they want to figure it out. Together.


End file.
